


The storyweaver and the man in his life

by evakuality



Series: The research nerd and the storyweaver [2]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: M/M, Trans Male Character, overly dramatic storytelling, trans Even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 12:59:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18052940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evakuality/pseuds/evakuality
Summary: “The epic meeting, the tragic story of a boy and the cappuccino that would never be his.  And the man who saved him from a fate worse than death.”“Jesus, Even!” Isak complains, but Even’s on a roll now and launches right back into his tale.Aka, the one where Even tells the tale of how he met Isak in this universe.Fits between chapters two and three of 'The research nerd and the man in his life' but doesn't require a knowledge of that fic.





	The storyweaver and the man in his life

**Author's Note:**

> For the person who sent an ask a million years ago saying they'd love to read Even's version of how he met Isak. This is that story. If anyone has any other ideas for stories Even could tell, please let me know because this was fun and letting Even go was very entertaining :D
> 
> Thank you, as always, for the people who beta read this for me. I <3 you both and appreciate all the support and insight you give me. And to my Norwegian guru, who always makes sure I don't mess up too much, I love you and your help so so much!

Even likes playing, teasing Isak about telling Eskild ‘everything’ about their first meeting, because Isak’s responses are always so endearing.  He rolls his eyes, huffs his amused irritation and a small, fond smile always blooms in the corners of his lips. Isak knows the truth, of course, but Even can never help himself.  He comes up with ever more ridiculous scenarios that he’s going to tell Eskild. And every time he does it, Isak’s smile becomes a little more soft, a little more amused. It’s intoxicating.  It’s worth everything just to see Isak’s eyes roll, catch his soft smile, and feel the flutter of joy in Even’s chest when he notices both. The flutter that says,  _ he likes this and I make him smile. _  Even’s not always had people who will react this way; too often it’s been grim acceptance of who he is, or worse … pointed ignoring.  Even loves making people smile, and it means a lot that he can elicit these reactions from Isak so easily.

Even slouches on the couch next to Isak one evening and glances over at Eskild, knowing there must be a twinkle in his gaze as Eskild’s eyes light up in response.  After the first awkward meeting with him when Even wasn’t sure he’d be accepted, Eskild has become like an extra older brother to him. There’s jokes and banter every time they meet, but Even can sense a depth of compassion in Eskild that he hasn’t always felt from people, even people who claim to be open minded or part of his community, who have been hesitant about his gender.  That Eskild isn’t, never has been, and is instead focused so hard on how he and Isak met rather than who Even is, feels like such a blessing.

This evening, Eskild has been wheedling Isak, trying resolutely to get some sort of juicy gossip out of him about how he and Even had got together.  His constant desperate need to  _ know _ makes Even happy; it allows him to tease and provoke the responses from Isak that he loves so much.  It allows him to feel wanted and needed in this small community at Isak’s home. It feels like the right moment to finally give Eskild what Even has been itching to all along: his ramped up version of their meeting story.  True to form, Isak has been denying that anything interesting happened, but the way he says it makes Eskild assume there’s something underlying it all, and honestly it’s impossible for Even to resist playing up to that. 

“But my little duckling,” Eskild is saying now after another of Isak’s bland declarations of mundanity, “it can’t be that simple.   _ Nothing _ is ever that simple with you.”

Isak is scowling, his brows drawn low over his eyes and his gaze fierce.  “I’m serious,” he says. “I literally met him when he served me coffee.”

“Aww, baby,” Even cuts in, grinning mischievously over at Eskild before turning his attention to Isak.  “You can tell him the truth.”

“Shut it,” Isak says, with a groan as he looks at Even and gives him another of those glorious eye rolls.  “You’re not helping.”

But there’s the fondness again, and the softness that overtakes Isak when he’s not overthinking everything and Even can’t help himself.  He had been going to laugh it off and admit to Eskild that they really did meet in the most mundane way possible at Even’s job. But Eskild is leaning forward now, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide, and Isak looks completely resigned as if he’s just waiting for it to happen.  He’s sipping on a beer, rolling his eyes in that beautiful way he does. And honestly, in light of that, how can Even resist? Stories are in his blood, and Even adores the credulous looks people give when they’re drawn right into one of the tales he spins.

So he, too, leans forward and makes sure Eskild’s eyes are on him.  This is always the most important part of any good story: the person’s attention must always be completely on Even so they don’t lose the connection and intimacy needed for it to ring true.  Eskild’s eyes widen further and his lips curl up into a delighted smile.

“You’re really telling me now?” 

“I am,” Even agrees.  “It may sound a bit unusual, and I know Isak finds it a little embarrassing.”  He nods, a quick small duck of his head to cover for the way he wants to chuckle already, just from Isak’s huff of affront at the insinuation.  He slides his fingers sideways and onto Isak’s leg. “It’s okay, baby,” he says soothingly, glancing at him, “Eskild’s not going to spread it around.  Right, Eskild?”

“Oh?” Eskild says, his voice breathless.  “Yes, of course. Baby duckling, your news is safe with me.”

Beside Even, Isak groans and buries his face in his hands.  “You’re a dick,” he mutters, quietly enough that only Even can hear.

“You love it,” Even whispers back, squeezing his leg and turning back to Eskild.  Isak’s huff is so filled with fondness that Even can’t quite hold in the soft sigh of his own.  When he looks over at Eskild again, his face is filled with so much affection and approval that Even can’t help the leap his heart makes.  It’s been so  _ long _ since he’s felt this welcomed and accepted and it’s a lot to process.  He swallows, refocuses on what he’s here to do.

“Isak’s right in one way,” Even says, squeezing his knee again, reveling in the way Isak lets his leg relax at the touch and it presses against Even’s.  “We did meet at the coffee shop where I work. But … that’s not what actually introduced us to each other. Not really.”

“But … if you met there, how does that work?  Surely ‘we met over coffee’ can’t be all  _ that _ dramatic.”

“All in good time, Eskild,” Even says with a wink.  “Let’s start this epic tale at the beginning. There I was, sweaty and uncomfortable in the scratchy shirts they make us wear as a uniform.  I was putting the final touches on what I will say is the best cappuccino you’ve ever seen. It was perfect.” Even sighs wistfully, as he imagines what that coffee would look like.  The way the froth would have sat beautifully on top of the perfect coffee, the pattern Even could have made intricate and impressive. He shakes himself. “It’s a pity what happened to it before I could serve it to the world’s luckiest customer.”

Eskild is right there with him, his eyes fixed on Even’s and his mouth dropped into an unconscious ‘o’ of intrigue.  “What happened to it?” he asks, and Even grins.

 

***

 

It was cold that day, the first blush of winter starting to make itself felt.  Even had come into work far too early for his liking, and the cafe wasn’t yet warm.  So he was shivering as he fired up the coffee machine for that first cup of the day. His hands wrapped around the warm cup for a few seconds longer than they probably should have before he reluctantly allowed it to go into the care of his first customer.

This one was an older lady, frazzled looking, her grey hair wild and untamed and her eyes distracted as she rummaged through her bag.  She smiled at Even, took the cup and turned away to the far side of the cafe, clearly deciding to sit for a while to drink before braving the chill of the outdoors.

“Halla,” a soft voice said, shyness in the tone, and Even froze.  It was the guy, the one he’d seen here several times already. The one who looked like an angel crossed with that grumpy cat everyone was in love with for a while.  Which was appropriate, Even thought, since  _ he _ was slightly in love with the guy, frowns and all.  He glanced up, put on his very best smile, and leaned forward.

“Hey,” he said.  “What will it be today?”

“Oh … uh.  A cappuccino I think.”

There was color sitting high on the cheeks of the boy in front of Even, and a demure cast to the lashes that fanned over his cheeks as the guy closes his eyes briefly.  Even sighed in adoration.

 

***

 

“Even!” Isak says, with one of his adorable pouts as he cuts into Even’s tale, and dragging his attention to Isak  with a sharp poke in his ribs. “You know this is bullshit. I’m not grumpy.”

Even glances over at Eskild, who is trying to hide a knowing smile, and grins.  He raises his eyebrows and Eskild’s smile widens. Beside him, Isak has folded his arms and is growling.

“You really are a fucking asshole,” Isak says.  “What all this ‘demure’ crap, too? I walked up to the counter, asked for the damn cappuccino, took it from you and had to deal with you practically falling over the counter to get my number.”

Even looks down at him and grins.  “Okay, I admit it,” he says, looking over at Eskild.

“See!” Isak says, his voice smug now.  “Completely full of shit.”

“I admit Isak maybe wasn’t a blushing ingenue when we met.”  Even smiles over at Eskild, while squeezing Isak’s leg as he growls his irritation again.  “But the rest is true. I was completely besotted from the start and he was the most beautiful creature I’d ever laid eyes on.”

“But the cappuccino?” Eskild asks, waving off the romantic stuff and refocusing Even.  Which is probably for the best; Even’s about to turn this tale far too soppy for belief if Isak keeps looking at him the way he is, as if he’s both impossibly fond and impossibly annoyed.  And Isak is right, in one way. He really  _ isn’t _ the fluffy, shy, romantic type.  Not in public anyway. If Even allows himself to carry on down this track, Eskild will catch on far too soon.

“Right,” Even says, shaking his head to clear him from his Isak-induced fog, and dragging his attention back to Eskild.  “The epic meeting, the tragic story of a boy and the cappuccino that would never be his. And the man who saved him from a fate worse than death.”

“Jesus, Even!” Isak complains, but Even’s on a roll now and launches right back into his tale.

 

***

 

The guy was looking at Even with something of a confronting stare, which was as attractive as it was intimidating  _ (“thank you, Even; that’s more like it”), _ and Even was finding it a little difficult to focus.  After a few seconds of silence, the guy’s eyes became confused and Even had to shake himself.  Now wasn’t the time to make a complete fool out of himself, falling all over his feet around the cute guy Even was trying to impress.

“Right.  Cappuccino.”  He grinned at the guy, earning a slight smile and a frankly appraising look.  Feeling warm despite the chill that was only now being taken off the air in the cafe, Even turned to his coffee machine.  “Coming right up.”

Even was just putting the final, perfect, touches on the drink, carefully designing the art for the top, when the door crashed open.  A blast of icy air swept into the room and it was filled suddenly with five towering hooligans.

“Drop everything and give us your money!” the first one called, roughly pushing the guy Even’s been serving (and admiring, if he’s being entirely honest with himself) to one side and storming up to the counter with a gun.  The beautiful guy is sprawled on the floor and Even can barely focus on the metal under his nose in his anxiety to help his fallen crush, the potential love of Even’s life.

 

***

 

Eskild’s eyes narrow and he sits back.  “That seems all very dramatic,” he says.  “Maybe a bit  _ too _ dramatic.”

“That’s because Even’s a dramatic fucker, and it never happened.  I literally just bought a coffee and left, and he chased me down.”  Isak’s voice is trying for irritation, but Even can hear the fondness in it.  He glances sideways at Isak and catches the most loving, soft look.

“Okay,” Even admits again.  “Maybe it wasn’t quite that dramatic.  But they really did burst in the door, and they really did cause me to destroy the most perfect coffee ever created.”  He sighs and shakes his head sadly, looking back at Eskild. “Honestly, that was the biggest waste of my skills and  _ that’s _ probably the biggest tragedy in this sorry tale.”  

Beside him, Isak snorts.  “I’d love to see this legendary skill set of yours some day,” he says and Even gasps in mock outrage, pressing a hand to his chest.

“Isak! I make you coffee all the time; you are well aware of my skills.”

“I’m sure he is,” Eskild cuts in with a smirk and a wink.  “But right now I want to know about this doomed coffee.”

Smugly happy that Eskild seems to have fallen right back under his spell, Even obliges.  He leans forward, pulls Eskild’s attention to him once more and continues.

 

***

 

The guys who had burst into the cafe were aggressive and intimidating, looming over the counter as if they owned the place.  Despite none of them wielding weapons, their presence was enough to strike terror into someone’s heart. Into  _ Even’s _ heart, if he was being entirely honest.  Their faces were impassive, masked and imposing, and they all fanned out behind the one who was obviously their leader.  Grizzled and stinking, he stood as close to the counter as he could get and tapped his fingers impatiently on the wooden surface which Even had just finished polishing a few minutes earlier.  His greasy fingers left smudges in their wake.

“You owe us,” he said, his voice low and menacing.  “Pay up or face the consequences.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Even said defiantly.  He tilted his head up and stared the guy down. He was taller, after all, even if he was slighter and this guy was built like a tank.  Plus, Even couldn’t allow himself to back down, not while the mystery guy of his dreams watched from the spot he’d been pushed into, his eyes wide and scared as he took in the scene unfolding before him.

The man growled and leaned forward.  Even stood his ground, staring at him with his chin jutted out and his feet in a fighting stance. The man in front of him slowly looked him up and down, steely faced, then shook his head and laughed.  It wasn’t an amused laugh. 

“Can you believe this asshole,” he said looking back at his accomplices.  They obligingly laughed along with him, but their eyes remained stony and fixed on Even, their arms crossed in front of their chests.

The woman who’d bought Even’s first coffee of the day had left already, so there was only Even, the cute guy and the assholes who were dominating the room.  The worst of it wasn’t their attitude of entitlement, or even the way they had interrupted Even’s moment with the grumpy cute guy of his dreams. No, the worst of it was the way they’d shoved him out of the way as if he were nothing.

Even glanced towards the corner into which the potential man in his life had been thrown and saw him cowering in fear, back up against the wall and eyes fixed on Even’s in a desperate plea.  That look is all it took to push Even into action. He grabbed the almost-perfect cappuccino, then spun to one side, while throwing it in the direction of the grizzled man. It splashed over him, boiling liquid searing his cheek and making him stumble back in agony.

 

***

 

“Okay, Even.  That’s it.” Isak’s voice is filled with annoyed laughter now and he can’t keep his face straight.  A laugh spills out around the corners of his mouth and the creases of his eyes. “I can cope with you telling Eskild you think I’m cute or … or, I don’t know.  The shy stuff maybe. But this is too much.”

Even’s own facade cracks and he can’t help the small fizz of laughter which erupts at Isak’s words.  “What, you don’t like being cast in the role of helpless love interest?”

“Would  _ you?” _

“If you were playing the hero, I probably wouldn’t mind …”

Isak laughs, rolls his eyes again, but snuggles into Even’s side.  “You’re such a dick. I don’t know why I bother sometimes.”

Even chuckles, presses a kiss into the hair on top of Isak’s head.  “Because you love it.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Eskild cuts in, clearly not appreciating the true beauty of this moment.  “You’re lying?”

“Of course he’s fucking lying,” Isak says.  “I told you what really happened.”

“But … Isak.  You kept insinuating there was something else.  Something you weren’t telling me. Something actually interesting.”  

There’s petulance in his voice and Isak laughs, takes a sip of his drink and just looks at Eskild.  His stare is forthright and there’s a tiny  _ gotcha _ in the way his eyebrows lift in a small challenge.  There’s a sparkle in his gaze and a tilt of smug happiness to his lips that makes Even almost dizzy with pleasure, and shared smartassery.  He hasn’t known Isak for long, but in the time he has known him, it’s become clear that Isak can take things too seriously sometimes, caught up in his head and his thoughts.

This side of him, the teasing, sarcastic, really fucking  _ funny _ side, makes Even’s head spin.  He hasn’t seen it often, but he loves it, loves the way it loosens up Isak’s body and makes him relax.  He loves how cheeky Isak is right now as he laughs at Eskild’s irritation, and suddenly Even can’t wait to see more, find out more about this boy who walked into his life and swept him off his feet.

“Truly though, Eskild.  He’s right. Isak did just buy a coffee and I did make a complete fool of myself while trying to come across as suave and interesting.”

“I didn’t know that’s what you were going for,” Isak says with a small laugh, linking his fingers with Even’s where they still sit on his knee.  “I thought you were trying for ‘dramatic and extra’ -- and ending up looking like a giant dork.”

Warmth explodes in Even’s chest again as Isak slides even closer and slips his other arm around behind Even’s back.  His smile is hard to see from this angle but Even can hear it in his voice anyway. “Lucky for you I like dramatic dorks.”

“Yeah,” Even agrees softly.  “Lucky for me is right.”

“Well,” Eskild says, cutting into Even’s thoughts and making him start a little; he had entirely forgotten that Eskild was even in the room.  “As much as I enjoy an overblown tale or two even if they’re fake, this is all a little too sappy for my tastes.” He waves a hand in their general direction, to really drive home what he’s talking about and making Isak groan.  “So I will go to bed and you two can … well. You can do whatever it is you do when you start getting like this.”

He winks as he gets off the couch and makes his way towards his room, and Even sighs again in contentment.  It’s been a long time since he felt this relaxed and at ease and he blesses this little family for giving that to him.

“You’re still the worst storyteller,” Isak says, his voice starting to slip into a tired yawn.  “What the hell was that?”

“Storyweaving,” Even says cheerfully.  “You’ve got to cut your cloth to your audience, and Eskild loved that idea.”

“He would,” Isak says with a small laugh.  “He likes to think of himself as my protector too.  No wonder you two get on so well.”

“Awww, baby, are you jealous?” Even asks.  “I promise I won’t steal your guru.”

Isak growls, sounding a little more wakeful.  “He’s not my guru,” he says, pushing at Even and making him laugh again.  “And you couldn’t steal him even if you tried. He loves me.”

“That he does.”

If there’s one thing Even knows after even this short a time it’s that Eskild, for all his apparent dismay and sarcastic horror at Isak’s supposedly disastrous life, does genuinely care for him.  It’s nice and Even loves that Isak has this.

“Tell you what.  Next time I have to tell Eskild a story I’ll make you the hero.”

“Better,” Isak says and reaches up to kiss Even softly.  “I’d make a great hero.”

“And I didn’t?”  Even tries to hide how much this question actually means to him.  In the space of a few seconds it’s become serious, anxiety-inducing, and Isak seems to recognize that.

“You did,” he says softly, looking into Even’s eyes. “You always do.”  Then he gives another of his cheeky grins and Even’s heart leaps. “Just … maybe don’t make me quite so timid next time.  I’d kick those guys’ asses right alongside you. That’s  _ much _ more believable.”

“Okay,” Even whispers into his hair.  “We’ll be heroes together.”

He can feel Isak’s smile under the hand that’s gently playing with the curls behind Isak’s ear and barely hears the quiet, “together,” that Isak sighs as his body becomes pliant and soft against Even’s as he gives in to his tiredness.  A yawn splits his face and Even grins. He extricates himself from Isak and stands to offer him a hand up.

“Right now I think we need to heroically go to bed.”

Isak laughs and takes his hand, allowing himself to be drawn towards the bedroom arguing the whole way about how heroic sleeping actually is.   _ Together, _ Even thinks, fond as he watches Isak talk.   _ That’s the best story of them all. _


End file.
